OOC:

Ron-Goron
Communications Technician
Level 1: Equipment and Procedures

Story 2: Communications Operations, Procedures, and Techniques

My Teacher Trap

"Are you kidding me?" Ron thought to himself.

He was told that after the first exam, things wouldn't be as difficult... he had no idea. After passing his last exam, through unorthodox but acceptable means, Ron was now enrolled in the next of his required classes. It was taught by a young officer, fresh from the front; who upon showing certain dis qualities on the battlefield, was removed for his own (and his families) honor, to a lower teaching position. It was quite clear that for everything he lacked on the front line, he also lacked in the front desk. For as much as he wasn't a soldier, he certainly wasn't a teacher.

And it was in this very class room that Ron now sat, his eyeballs rolling up like slot machine windows, and his mouth hanging open just wide enough to dry out his tongue. This cause him to, every now and then, suddenly close his mouth and lick his lips to keep them from dehydrating... after which he would look up at the board to see if any new material had been gained, which never really happened. This continued for some weeks.

And it was one of these fine days that Ron now found himself; trapped in three hours forty-seven minutes of pure absolute boredom. It wasn't like he was missing anything either... for the instructor, named Aarnus Makko (or Mr. M to his students), taught strait out of the book, which was only as thick as their breakfast cookbooks which were distributed round the troops.

Ron stirred from his seat and looked at the rest of his class. Some of them were sleeping, some of them were reading (other books for other classes), and a select few up front were actually taking notes. He looked in his own book to review today's lesson, which was extremely easy and almost a disgrace to both teacher and student to teach and learn.

Basically the lesson entailed the operation of some thirty communication channels that were most commonly used in and out of battle. Access to these channels was extremely easy, with just a simple typed command, one came up to a sort of "table of contents" in which all the channels under a specific category were listed. These channels were under a server, the server was under a sever base, and so on and so forth. The most important part of the lesson was learning how to get into the server, which gave access to all its hosted channels.

That was it. Extremely easy, and not difficult to understand, as long as you didn't have an idiot as a teacher. He knew what to do, but he clearly had not an ounce of talent in relating that nformation to other people, which in turn jeopardized the lesson as a whole. Ron for one couldn't believe that he was teaching a two week course by himself, never mind the ridiculous idea of making such a simple concept into the two week course in the first place.

"I wonder what Tibbs is doing." pondered Ron, as he looked up across the room.

Tibbs, or Tabbulla Sawn, was one of the smarter students in the class. She was one of better friends of Ron too, although she was not as good as hacking systems as he was. She was more into creating her own gadgets and trinkets, which required a different skill. While some thought she could've been a combat engineer, she preferred to learn how to program her inventions instead of letting someone else.

In any case, Tibbs was sleeping, as usual in this class. Ron picked up his personal datapad and logged into the campus' chat-room, which was of course, protected from use in the class rooms. Ron entered the password (which he pinched off a teacher's assistant) and sent a message to Tibbs. Then setting down the datapad so as not to be noticed, he waited for a reaction from Tibbs.

Tibbs didn't notice the message at first, but she soon found the message invite from Ron. After typing in the password that Ron so graciously gave her some days before, she joined the private chat-room.

"Hey Tibbs, want to collect a tip for the teacher?" Ron said.

"Sure." replied Tibbs. "I know a lot of people who will donate for him: 'Mr. M, get a life.' 'Hey M... go back to the war, and this time get shot.' 'Makko the wakko'."

Ron grinned. "We have such generous hearts. But how can we refuse giving such a thoughtful gift? He deserves it for all the work he's done."

"Humph. Tibbs said. "If you can call it work."

Ron wanted to laugh, but he held it in for the sake of not getting caught. He knew what the punishment for getting caught chatting was... but he just didn't want to go the next few hours as bored as the rest of the class.

"Hey Ron." said Tibbs. "I just had a fantastic idea." She paused before saying, "Let's get M to let out the class early."

"How?" Ron replied.

Tibbs said, "Easy. We wait until he gives the class an exercise to work on, and then we invite him in the chat room. You and I can switch our names to the screen names of some of the people he hangs out with, you know, Paddy Vert or James Grimes, people like them. Then all we do is tell him that they are letting out their classes early due to last minute scheduling that didn't make it out to the teachers in time to make the FYI. It'll be easy, this guys a moron. And besides, we are technically participating in the class... the chat-room is a communications channel."

"Tibbs, you're a genius." Ron said.

After another ten minutes of pointless lecture, Makko finally gave some practical exercises for the students to do. Ron winked at Tibbs to engage in the master plan.

Makko took out his own datapad. It had been such a long day already, he hoped that Vert and Grimes were on. As he turned it on, he was instantly beset by an instant message.

[YOU HAVE AN INVITE TO ROOM #445656, WOULD YOU LIKE TO ACCEPT?]

Makko instantly accepted, and uploaded the private chat-room which included both Vert and Grimes.

A message appeared on the screen. [Vert: HEY MAK, WHATS NEW IN COMTECH?]

[Mak: HEY GUYS. NOT MUCH. IM REALLY HATING THIS CLASS, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO GET THROUGH TO THESE KIDS, THEYRE SO DENSE, YOU KNOW?]

Ron rolled his eyes at this statement. Blame it on the kids why don't you. He responded as his alias GRIMES, who was an easy-going well liked instructor in the campus.

[Grimes: NO FEARS MAK, KIDS GET EASIER TO HANDLE AS YOU GET OLDER.]

[Mak: I SURE HOPE YOU'RE RIGHT MAN... WHAT TIME DO YOU GUYS START YOUR CLASSES TODAY?]

Tibbs' and Ron's eyes grew open with shock at this statement. Makko had just opened the door wide for them.

[Vert: CLASSES? MAK, MAN WE JUST LET OUT, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?]

[Mak: WHAT?]

[Grimes: YEAH MAK, HALF-DAY TODAY, WE LET OUT EARLY.]

[Mak: WHY? I DIDN'T GET ANY MESSAGE.]

[Vert: THEY ONLY TOLD THE OLDER GUYS, WE WERE SUPPOSED TO TELL YOU YOUNGER PEOPLE TO LET YOUR CLASSES OUT EARLY... SOMETHING ABOUT A FACULTY BREAK.]

Makko put down the datapad and looked up at the class. They were all still working on their practical, or at least most of them were. He leaned back and looked out the window... the campus was bare, hardly any students or teachers were on the grounds.

[Mak: WHY DON'T I SEE ANYONE OUTSIDE IN THE YARD?]

Damn. He wasn't as dumb as he looked. Now for the back-up plan.

[Grimes: EVERYONE ALREADY LEFT, MAN. WE TOLD YOU. NOW HURRY UP AND GET OUT OF THERE, THE GUYS ARE GOING OUT TO HUNT DOWN SOME HOT INTERNS AND UNLESS YOU WANT TO STICK AROUND IN A CLASS ALL DAY...]

[Mak: INTERNS? NEW?]

[Vert: YUP. YOU'D KNOW IF YOU GOT YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE.]

[Mak: AWESOME GUYS... WAIT UP, IM COMING!]

[EXIT: Mac (INTERNS!)]

Ron closed his datapad with a silent click. A job well done, and a lesson well learned. Tibbs and him would be drinking beers and puffing Lung-blaster's within the hour... or the next five minutes for that matter.

OOC:

As a side note*
The reader may notice that the first chat-conversation is not written in the [User: MESSAGE] format.  This is because the second chat is where the two students, Ron and Tibbs, learn to use the lesson, and so the format is different to emphasize how they are using the lesson to fool the teacher; ironic, and hopefully believable to the reader.

Also, the Tibbs mentioned in the story is fictional, and is by no means meant to be represented as the Tibbs we all know and love.

Passed - Rogueboy

OOC:

Ron-Goron
Communications Technician
Level 2: System Control

Story 2: Basic Electronics

"No, no... its that one." said Ron anxiously.  He was leaning over the counter at the mail room- and was directing an older, slower trooper as to the location of his package.  Unfortunately for Ron, his package was on the bottom of a heavy pyramid composed entirely of the very same product.

"What's in these boxes anyways?" grumbled the trooper.  He clearly wasn't too happy about having to fish out the desired box.

"It's a laptop, and since its unassembled its still very... delicate!  Ron closed his eyes as several of the boxes fell off the top.  Fortunately they were caught by the trooper underneath.

"Damn computers." he said.  He gave the box another experimental tug, stopped as he saw the tower waiver, and then pulled it free.  "Here." he said.  He grumbled some other conjectures, shook his head, and finally handed it over to Ron.

"Thanks." replied Ron absentmindedly. He was thinking about the laptop within the box, the most important part of a Comm tech's equipment.  It was essential that he glean as much from today's lecture as possible.

- - -

Two hours later, Ron was seated in the middle of a large auditorium.  On the state up front was his old teacher Sgt. Shracken.

"Now proceed with the assembly of your computers."  he said.  Everywhere there could be heard the sound of ripping as the packaging material disintegrated beneath the eager hands of students.  Every piece that Ron retrieved from his package was familiar to him, as they were to all the students; extensive training had prepared them for this very reason.

"Lay the outer shell aside, and begin to assemble the operating system." said Shracken once all the packages were undone. 

Ron took the parts to the operating system and connected them to the other parts.  Fortunately it was not part of his training to create his own OS, he just had to know how to hook it up.  After Ron had put together the memory, power supply, chip drives, sound and video and expansion cards, and other parts that he needed to create the system; he set down his work and waited for new commands.  He did not have long to wait, for all the students were quick and knew what they were doing.

"Build the shell." drolled Shracken.  Everywhere students pulled out the flat, metallic pieces and began to slowly place the parts within them, making sure to set everything in its alloted slot. 

Ron had no difficulty finding the correct pieces, but he had some trouble fitting them together.  Unfortunately, when training shell covers are made, they aren't made to fit so well together.  These were, of course, training grade covers- not very well made, not very durable, and not very easy to assemble.  Ron had just snapped the final side to the other two that joined it when he heard Shracken say,

"Monitors!"  That was the easiest part.  Ron took out the monitor, attached the three wires to their respective slots, and set it down.  He wasn't the first to be done, but he certainly wasn't the last.  Once this was finished, Shracken took the floor once more.

"Congratulations." he began.  "You just built your first computer, and so consequently have earned a likely praise.  But this isn't the end of the test, in fact... that wasn't the test at all... CRASH!" 

Even before he finished, Shracken picked up a student's computer and threw it to the floor.  Those students beside him leaned over their desks and shook their heads.  They pitied the boy, but were grateful that it wasn't their computer that had fallen.  Not for long.  Shracken threw the next one down, and then the next, and the next, and he walked up the entire row throwing the laptops to the ground.  This continued until every single laptop was broken on the floor.

"Great." Thought Ron.  "Classic Shracken teaching."  Ron knew from experience how ruthless Shracken was in the classroom; it was a characteristic of him that hardened during the war.  Ron hoped that the same wouldn't happen to him once he was deployed.

"Fix it." Shracken said finally.  He crossed his arms and half-smiled, the expressions on the student's faces were too comical to resist smiling.

"Umm... sir..." said one recruit. 

"What?" snapped Shracken.

"My computer, it's not broken..." the soldier stammered.

Shracken walked over to the recruit and picked up the undamaged computer.  Then lifting it over his head he threw it down several rows, where it landed with a sickening crash.  Parts scattered across the floor, the most distant piece being the fan cylinder, which rolled down the center isle.

"Th... thank you... Sir." mumbled the recruit.

"My pleasure, Private." returned the Sergeant. 

Ron shook his head at the recruit, and wished he had been the lucky one to have the undamaged computer.  He certainly wouldn't have complained! Yet upon inspecting his own computer, his thoughts returned to the task at hand.

He was in a bit of trouble.  After inspecting the main damage, he found that the damaged pieces were few, but in bad shape.  His chip drives were the parts that suffered the most, the output cavities having completely collapsed upon themselves from the impact.  Ron popped out the drives, and hoped that there were replacements in the extra parts given to him.  There were none. 

Ron sighed.  He took a screwdriver and slowly, but surely, pried the cavities back open.  He then took some electrical tape and taped them together, to prevent loosened parts from disassembling.  Once this was done, he reinserted them, and prayed that they still worked.  He got lucky, and with a little tinkering, managed to get them back to working condition.  The only other damaged part of the computer was the display screen, which was badly shattered.  Ron took out the replacement provided and correctly inserted it into the monitor.  Once this was done Ron set down the computer and called for Shracken to inspect his work.

Shracken inspected Ron's work with approval. 

"You must realize that these computers aren't combat grade.  These shells are entirely too thin to really get any use out of, so that little problem you had with the drives won't likely happen in a hurry."

He looked at the monitor screen as well, and after approving it, left Ron's completed work to inspect the pathetic attempts of a fellow student down the aisle.

"Now as for you Draco... What?  No, your not supposed to remove all the wires when repairing!  Just the damaged ones!  A little sense goes a long way Mr. Draco!"

OOC:

I'm not sure whether or not this has been previously graded by Cosmic, but if not, you've earned yourself a definite pass. I enjoyed the humor, especially as the majority of spec stories are often difficult to read with so much technical information present.

OOC:

Ron-Goron
Communications Technician
Level 3: Theory

Story 2: Software Interface Theory

"Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick."

Eyes of tremendously bored students were glued to the singular source of relief in the longest class of the day, the clock.  Neither time nor pace went quickly in that class, because it was a Software Interface course; either you know it, or you don't.  But here, students didn't care if they knew it, they just wanted out.  And so they watched with their reddened eyes and drooling mouths; they watched.

"Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick..."

"Mr. Goron!"  Ah!  Something different than the importance of relative speeds of connection.  The students turned their gaze to a young student in the front, a student of twenty or so who was well known to be one of the finest hackers in the class- when it came to stealing drinks from vending machines.  Yet at this moment he was about to known for another bit of worthless production.  Ron was sleeping.

Oh yes, he was definitely sleeping.  As his chest heaved up and down on the desktop, making his spread eagled arms rise and fall, the demanding address stopped his breathing and made him inhale deeply... but but it didn't stop him from falling back into his deep sleep.  He hadn't budged an inch after his name was called; only his eyes flickered, flickered and opened, and shut once again.

"Mis-ter Gor-on!" repeated the instructor, old Major Sims.  He accented each syllable of Ron's name (or part of it) before he himself approached the sleeping student and...

"SMACK."

...brought his ruler down with a resounding crash on Ron's desk, coming a hair's width away from hitting him full force on the head.  The sound not only woke Ron with a start, but also deafened him temporarily.

"Mr. Goron!" said Sims, quite exasperated.

"Mmm?" said Ron sleepily. 

"Do you have any idea as to what the lesson up until now as about?  Or is it safe to assume that you were not paying attention?  And by 'not paying attention' I mean catching up on your very valuable rest and disregarding anything that I, or your classmates, has to say."

"Connecting speeds." said Ron simply.  He looked about the room at the open textbooks that revealed the answer.  Did Sims take him for a moron?

"Well at least we know you can read." sneered Sims.  He shut the books nearest to Ron and came up to him face to face.

"But can you tell me any specifics?" he said.  Up close, Ron could see every detail of Sim's face... even the tiny black nose hairs that curled from beneath purple, bloated nostrils.

"I... I suppose so..." said Ron at length.

"Excellent." Sims cackled.  "Give me the connection cable needed for an inverted kotashi terminal."

"Double chain." replied Ron instantly.

"Green board."

"Mox cord."

"Silver table."

"Flathead."

"Exocom..."

"Scion Double-prong cable box, and depending on the 'year of production' of the Exocom Axle Table, either a single or triple extension line."

"Quiet!" yelled Sims.  His face was very red with anger, which spread all over his face, but still not pigmenting the very violet which was his nose.

"Your mocking tune, Mr. Goron, will now come to it's screeching end!"

"Ron-Goron." Ron whispered. "No last name."

"Give me the first name of the Auk Line Timetables, MII."

"Auk Line Timetables?" thought Ron.  He knew vaguely about the Auk Line Datapads, but they were very outdated and never used anymore.  An Auk Line Timetable couldn't have been much younger than those, considering that they lost all their marketability half a century ago...

But, to answer his question, Ron knew that the Auk Line always named their prototypes according to the order in which they were made, and so the predecessor of Auk MII, must have been Auk MI.

"Auk MI?" said Ron.

"Nooo." laughed Sims, grinning ear to ear.  He was almost dancing around the room with delight. 

"Can anyone inform 'Mr. Goron' what the correct name is?"

Only one person raised her hand.  Larsa Thy'lak, the only twi'leki in the class (and also the academic rival of Ron's) sat in the very back, a privilege that was only given to 'prized' students.  Ron had the potential, but he clearly wasn't Sims favorite of students.

"Yesss, Ms. Thy'lak."

"N." she said.  "Auk N."

"And that of course is correct, my dear."  Turning back to Ron with not nearly as kind a tone, he sneered, "Perhaps an arrangement can be made for your tutelage under Ms. Thy'lak."

"I'd rather die." said Ron flatly.

"Go see if that can be arranged, would you?" said Sims.  In the meantime...

"Tick... tick... RING!"

Every student got up with a jump and headed out the door.  Curiously enough, most of them had forgotten about the clock, so engaged was their interest in Ron's predicament.  But now they did not pity him, especially when they heard Sim shout,

"Would Mr. Goron and Ms. Thy'lak please remain after class!"

"O death." grumbled Ron.

He spun back around and waited in an empty desk.  The room seemed bigger now without any students, but he wasn't thinking about the missing students; he was fixing a dark gaze on the young twilek who was busy talking to Sims.  Ron greatly disliked her, mostly because of Sims' favoritism, but also because he considered her to be his only threat when it came to outsmarting him.

After a few minutes, the talk grew slightly heated.  Thy'lak clearly was uneasy about something, and took a few moments to convince.  Whatever it was that Sims wanted, if Shy'lak didn't want it, then Ron heavily doubted that he would care to hear it.  Soon it was his turn to speak to Sims.

"Ah yes, the man who knows it all."  Sims indicated to a nearby desk, but Ron ignored the jester and remained standing.  "I have come to my decision regarding your test in Software Interface... you are familiar with the test, of course- connect to three different computer sources using three different types of connections- however I do not think you are acquainted with your partner."

"Partner?" Ron repeated.  A sick feeling was growing in his stomach.  Was this what Sims was talking to Thy'lak about?

"Yes." Sims said.  "Your partner will be Larsa Thy'lak." 

Ron was so surprised, that he literally was taken 'aback.'  He stumbled backwards a few paces before saying,

"Larsa Thy'lak... is my partner?"

"Are you deaf?  I said so, yes, she is your partner and I expect you to, ahem, cooperate with her."

Ron knew that something was up.  Whatever could have possessed Sims to think up that kind of partnering?  It was a crazy match, even the professors who liked Ron would object.  Tests are not made to be impossible, perhaps hard, but never impossible; and in this respect Sims was making it damned close to being impossible!

Sims seemed to read Ron's mind perfectly.  "Ahh.  You do understand why I paired you up with her don't you?  After all, her progress in my class has advanced rapidly- in fact, I am so satisfied with her work that I'm sure even partnering her with you couldn't possibly make her fail.  You on the other hand- well, you are such a miserable wreck that I'm sure the details in the test will be too much for you to handle.  Yes, you do seem to understand the mechanics of it all..." Sims spat onto the floor in disgust.  "But I'm sure once you are given a real challenge you will prove to be the miserable flunk I always knew you'd be."

"You seem very sure of yourself." responded Ron spitefully.

"Your grade will only prove it." cackled Sims.

"So you are trying to fail me... how?" said Ron.  Yes he had been partnered up with the most impossible partner in his class, but still- she was undoubtedly one of the smartest.  If Ron managed to get along with her only partially he was sure to pass.

"Oh. Didn't I tell you?" laughed Sims.  "Only one of you will pass!"

So that was it.  Sims was turning the test into a competition between his most hated student and his most favored student.  That was clearly what the twi'leki had been against.  What it entailed was a race to see who could connect to each computer interface first.  Since there was only three of them to be connected, one of them would have two connections and the other would only have one.  That way their would be a definite winner and loser.

"I have no choice?" said Ron weakly.

"None at all," Sims replied.  "Unless of course you want to retake the course and take the test next semester..."

That was not possible- he would never admit defeat willingly.

"Tomorrow then?" Ron said.

"Tomorrow." Sims replied, with his devilish smile.
_ _ _

tomorrow came without any relief.  Ron awoke in his bunk in a cold sweat, put on his casual uniform, and walked down to the shower house.  After washing, he packed all his equipment needed (and allowed) which amounted to his laptop, and headed down to the Software Interface testing room.

Ron entered the room with blinking eyes, but they closed completely (along with the wrinkles on Ron's disgruntled face) when he heard Major Sims' voice.

"Good morning, Mr. Goron.  You are strangely early today, but not so much as to beat Ms. Thy'lak."

A cold nod from Larsa was Ron's greeting.  Ron mimicked the nod with the same coldness.

"Well now that you've met, you might as well have at it.  Your consoles are located at the first section of the room- so that I can keep an eye on you, Mr. Goron."

"And on Thy'lak, undoubtedly." grunted Ron.

Once they came to their station, Ron and Thy'lak silently put down their backpacks and pulled out their equipment.  They would not be allowed to start testing connections until Sims gave the order.

"Alright now." started Sims.  "The rules are simple: The test is basically a race to see which one of you can connect to each computer interface first.  Since there is only three computers to be connected, one of you will have two connections and the other one will only have one, or in the case that I predict, one of you will have three and the other zero."  he paused before saying, "once you have connected to the target computer, you must type a message which includes your name- and you must insert that into the system's log.  The computers will keep track of the winning and losing times.  Are you ready?"

No response followed from either student.

"Begin." said Sims.  And begin they did.

It was a mad race during the first connection.  Both students quickly identified the target computer as a Silver table which -as mentioned before- required a flathead connection cable.  After this was done, both students typed up their name and waited for the result.

Upon a monitor in the front of the class, the times shown were:

[Larsa Thy'lak: 12:23.5]//[Ron-Goron: 12:23.77]

"Aha!" said Sims "A hit!  One down, Mr. Goron!  You must keep up if you intend to pass this class!"

Larsa didn't say a word, but looked very smug as she raced to connect to the second one.  Ron was disappointed, but knew his only chance was to beat her to the next one. 

The next computer was more complex, and so required more time to connect to.  The easy part was determining what kind of computer it was.  Both students identified it as a Quadic Terminal ery quickly, but the connection type was not so easily determined.  Only two was known to connect to the Quadics, but only one would give them access with the speed they wanted.

Ron picked the Dromedy Line.

Larsa chose the Nominal Tripolis connection.

Ron's was faster.  As soon as they connected to the computer, they inserted their names, and looked to the monitor screen.

[Ron-Goron: 34:35.00]//[Larsa Thy'lak: 35:40.12]

"Bad luck." Sims grumbled.  "Well done Mr. Goron, you've proved yourself to have some worth in you.  But I'm afraid you have no chance in the next and last set."

Ron doubted that statement, but realized how near to truth it was when he inspected the last computer.  The computer itself was a very basic make, the Kotashi Terminal.  What was odd about it was that it acted like an inverted Kotashi Terminal- without the double chain connectability.  In other words- the computer had been prehacked to deny double chain connection which was normally used to connect to an inverted Kotashi Terminal.  Ron tried every connection he knew for the regular Kotashi's without any success.  Soon he was reduced to a very contemplative state.

He looked over at Larsa's progress.  She was flying away at connecting, not stopping for anything it seemed.  What was odd about it was the fact that she had not connected to the other computer, all the work had  been done on her laptop alone.  Suddenly she pulled out the connection cord and plugged it into the target terminal, whereas she stopped working and looked forward.

There on the screen before them read the time for Larsa:

[Larsa Thy'lak: 38:50.299]

"And there it is!" laughed Sims time.  "Try as you might, Mr. Goron, its over!"

Ron read the time and knew exactly what had happened.  He also knew it was far from over.

"That extra nine in the hundredths place shouldn't be there." he said to himself.  That indicates a hack code- a connection that uses a finer code than the simple connection.  Well.  Sims probably gave her those codes.  If they want to play rough, then they so can I."

Ron played his next move very well.  First he went into his laptop control panel and froze his time, using a bypass OS code that allowed him 5 minutes of free time.  Then he took a carbon cable from his equipment pack and manually connected the two computers.  This was an illegal procedure in the test (Major Sims' test anyways), which would only give him access to some files.  Once he was on, Ron searched for the Control and Connection Information panel.  He found this:

Connection Type: Inverted Tabletop

Inverted Tabletop!  That was the connection used to connect to staff computers, which were Silverline by make- not Kotashi.  Ron ignored the flagrant contrast in computing rules- if the Silverline wanted Inverted Tabletop- then thats what it would get.  He just couldn't believe that Sims would pull such a dirty move

Ron got back on his computer and opened an Inverted Tabletop connection easily.  But before he typed in his message, he went into his time database and changed the time. 

Soon after, his name was up on the screen.

[Ron-Goron: 38:50.298]//[Larsa Thy'lak: 38:50.299]

"Impossible!" screeched Sims.  "Mr. Goron, you finished a good ten minutes after Ms. Thy'lak!"

"Not according to your test I didn't."

Major Sims knew what Ron did, but he couldn't do anything about it.  He had hoped Ron wouldn't find an answer to the clever trap he had set, but of course, he knew that this was the price he had to pay for cheating.  To do anything about it would only expose his own attempt to unfairly fail Ron.

"Congratulations, Mr. Goron." choked Sims, "On your passing of Software Interface."  he turned to his prize student.

"Ms. Thy'lak... I'll see... I'll see you tomorrow at class."  And with that, Major Sims picked up his heavy briefcase, opened the door, and headed towards the campus cantina; where he would drink his 'Mr. Goron' troubles away.

OOC:

Ron-Goron
Communications Technician
Level 3: Theory

Story 3: Antenna Theory

The only thing that could be heard above the wind was the loud music that was blasted in the back of the transport.  They were in a large open-framed transport, about thirty-five feet off the ground, in the middle of a large forest on Tadath- just outside the military base.  Ron was fully equipped in his white battle armor, as well as the rest of the class.  They were informed that their Antenna Theory class would be a fresh step away from the hum-drum of the classroom tactics of teaching.  Their instructor, a young battle experienced First Sergeant, called Folk was near the front of the transport- giving directions to the pilot.

Most of the troopers remained silent.  It was hard to talk in the transport when it's sides were exposed and open- and it was inconvenient to wear their helmets just yet- so most of them just held the hand rail above them and were silent.  Those who wished to talk, though, were close to each other so that they could be heard.  Ron was close enough to one of these groups to understand what they were saying.

"Hope he isn't taking us out too far." said one.  "I'm hungry, I am."

"He's taking us out far enough so that we're out of contact range of the base." said another wisely.  "Folk's a smart one.  He doesn't want any of us cheating our way out of theory."

"Wasn't too hard for some of us." said the first- directing the comment to Ron.

"Wasn't too hard for others either." said Ron right back at the first. 

The trooper who first made the comment was called Symon.  He had made the comment about Ron cheating due to Ron's incident with Major Sims regarding the Software Interface Theory Test.  As much as Ron may have 'cheated' there, it was not nearly as bad as Symon's cheating.  Symon got through every class through hacking and viruses- if it wasn't for Symon's ill skills, he never would have made it to Theory.

"We're coming up to the location for today’s class." shouted Folk from up front.  "You won't need any of your supplies that you brought with you- you can just leave them on the transport."

All the troopers relaxed.  This probably meant that the class and exam would be an easy one.  It would be a relief after the stressful classes they had taken in Theory up until now.  Shortly after this announcement all the troopers had taken off their armor and lay aside their equipment.  The only thing that they kept with them were their books calculators.

"Oh, one more thing." said Folk.  "Better bring your weapons incase we get some animals for company."

After the last trooper had left the transport and landed on the vegetated forest floor, Folk put a foot on the edge of the landed transport exit door.

"Now I know you all were getting ready for a large test involving the mathematics and structural theory regarding antennas and the way that radio signals work." said Folk.

The troopers nodded.

"Well that’s not what the test is on."  said Folk at last.  "As you can see from our location- we are not in a classroom, and so your test will not be with pencil and paper."

The students groaned.  They guessed as much.  Ron in particular wasn't too happy.  He was naturally good at math and physics, and so was disappointed to learn that the test would not be as easy as he thought.

"Instead you will be required to make your own communications equipment.  We are far enough from the main base so that you can not run home for supplies within a few days- and I made you leave your computers and com packs on the transport here."

The students were dumbstruck.  Ron was astounded.  Make their own communications equipment indeed!  The very idea was simply rediculous to these freshmen of the empire.  They were always supplied with what they needed...

"I will be a few miles away.  Once you are able to send a message of some kind to me- I will arrive with the transport to pick you up.  Good luck!"

And with that, First Sergeant Folk left his class in the middle of the forest.

_ _ _

"He's joking right?" said Symon.

"He can't do this can he?" said another.  "It's a Theory class, not survival."

"Folk is getting us ready for war." said another trooper.  "If you can't take it then leave."

"It's not even that hard." said Ron suddenly.

Symon spat in Ron's direction.  "I don't see how.  Can't cheat your way out of this one, Beer boy."

"Oh come on." said Ron.  "All we need to do is make a radio."

A radio?  No one actually, really uses radios.  It was much simpler to use the Communication microphones in their helmets. 

"Too weak." said a trooper.

"A good radio can reach from here to the base." said Ron.  "Something less that than can certainly reach Folk."

"He's right." said an older trooper, named Cal.  Cal was a communications tech who had been deployed off-planet for a few years.  He was back to finish his training.

"We made a radio out of some gun parts back when I was deployed on Yavin IV, reached a good seven miles clear as a bell." said Cal.

"So." said Symon.  He threw Cal his E-11.  "You're saying you can make a radio out of that?"

"It's been a while." said Cal.  "But yeah, its possible."

"Well we need to open it first." said Ron simply.  He grabbed the E-11 and took it apart with ease- something every trooper was expected to do quickly."

Ron first ripped out a tiny circuit board- used to light up and control the tiny screen that the soldiers looked at to see how much ammo they had left.

"We're going to need this..."

Next he found a crystal clock oscillator- found near the digital screen of the gun.

"And this..."

Last he took out the magazine clip and power supply required for the automatic reload.

"To power it." he said simply.

Cal nodded and said.  "Right.  Ron found the Circuit board, Oscillator, battery and battery clip.  All we need is an amplifier of some kind, jumpers, and antenna wire."

Slowly the parts were found.  Ear buds from a personal music player was used for the amplifier (although for some reason the music player was not with them), jumpers were made out of some of the wires found in the gun, and another wire was being slowly wrapped with an insulator to form the antenna.

"Right, we're all ready."  said Cal after a while.

"On thing still that we don’t have." said Ron.  "An audio transmitter."

Without an audio transmitter they could hear messages, but they could not send them.

"Well... what if... what if we used a diode?" said one trooper nervously.

"Yeah." said another trooper.  "That would work perfect- except no one has one!"

"Well, wait." said Cal.  "Ron, do you have a lighter?"

Of course he did.  Actually, Ron was feeling like he needed a smoke right about then...

"Want a smoke?" said Ron simply. 

"Not exactly." said Cal.  "Does your lighter make any sound?"

Ron flipped it open expertly and started a flame.  After a few seconds he held it open and the flame extinguished. 

"Nothing." said Cal.

Suddenly Ron collapsed the lid and a short dull beep followed.

"It beeped." said Cal.

"So?" said Ron.

"There could be a diode in it." said Cal.  He looked at Ron eagerly, but Ron only looked disappointed.

"Figures it would come to this." he said simply.  Ron lit one more death-stick before extinguishing the flame and throwing it to Cal.

"That's my last one too." he grumbled.

_ _ _

Within the next hour they had the radio assembled and they sent out several messages in all four directions.  Soon after they heard the transport overhead.  Out came Folk who was grinning ridiculously.

"You guys finished quicker than I had anticipated.  Let me see it... excellent.  Good, you used your weapons, I hoped you would."

He waited until all the troopers were aboard before finishing up.  He went over a few details explaining the pros and cons of their primitive radio before shouting above the wind and music:

"Does anyone have any questions?"

"Me Sir!" shouted back Ron.  "Do you have a lighter?"

"What?" shouted Folk.

"Do you have a lighter?!"

OOC:

Passed. Another great post. You're really raising the bar in terms of post quality for specs

.

OOC:

Ron-Goron
Communications Technician
Level 4: Battle Analysis

Story 2: Target Analysis

The newly waxed floor of the Gregor Building halls reflected Ron’s stance perfectly; though it was faded, tile green, and upside down.  To match, his body slenderized on the slick tile, making his torso and head ridiculously flatter than in reality.  The only part of his body that was proportional to the reflection was his feet, which were planted firmly on the ground. 

In front of Ron was the greatest of all beer vending machines, which Ron had labeled suitably as “The King”.  In previous months, Ron had been consumed by a constant drive to cheat the machine; to steal as many beers as he could.  But that seemed like a long time ago.  He looked down at his clenched hand by his side and extended it forward, slowly releasing his fingers outward to expose the zip chip within it.  This was Ron’s masterpiece, the ultimate weapon against the beer vending machines.  With this tiny instrument of technology he was able to suck the machine clean of all its beverage- making the difficulty of past attempts the work of a once incompetent youth.

But now as he stood with arm extended and palm open- Ron discovered that the age old trade of stealing beer had lost interest.  He had defeated himself, the beer machine had been conquered and he had perfected his art; but for some reason his victory lacked satisfaction.  The beer he stole tasted the same as the beer he bought.  He pocketed the chip, reached back in for some credits, and paid the fee.

“Giving up?” came a familiar voice.

“It’s finished.” said Ron simply.  “I’m just not interested in beating the machine, or you, anymore.”

“Do you have it, do you have the chip?” asked the Janitor.

“Sure.” said Ron absentmindedly.  He pulled out the chip from his pocket and gave it to the Janitor without another look at it. 

“Sure is a pretty thing.” said the Janitor admiringly.  “I don’t recognize the technology though.  What did you use?”

“I basically created it.” said Ron while he opened the can with a hiss.  “It’s called a Hijack Chip.  The computer inside the chip acts like a virus which completely takes over the computer- regardless of software and protection.  Once that’s done- it tells the machine to release cans in increments of five until I pull it out.  That’s it.”

“Impressive.” said the Janitor.  And he meant it.  He pocketed the chip and sat upon the hallway bench, motioning for Ron to join him.  Ron nodded, and half grinned before he sat down.

“I remember setting up this bench twenty years ago.” the Janitor mused.  “That was back when I was first hired to do work here,  right after I failed the Com Tech final exam.”

“Wait.” Ron said.  “I thought you said you were hired to fix bugs and keep hackers from tearing apart the campus.”

“Not exactly.” the Janitor said.  “I was hired because I had nothing else to go for.  I had been accepted to a Squad, and to a full promotion; but I failed the test.  The Squad chose someone else who passed, and they gave them the promotion as well.” the Janitor’s voice lowered.  “It’s a pity too, I knew more about computers than anyone else in that class.”

Ron’s eyes dropped so that he gazed at the floor.  He raised his voice without raising his eyes.  “So how did you fail?”

“I was not interested in the class.”  said the Janitor simply.  I had passed the classes easily enough- they were all basically book exercises with occasional tests.  I thought I could pass the exams the same way.  I was wrong.  When I took the exams, they gave me problems I couldn’t handle.  So I failed.”

“Then… why are you telling me this?” asked Ron.  He felt he knew the answer, but for some reason he just had to ask.

“Because you have potential; because if you pass this course, then somehow I’ll feel like I did not fail that class for nothing.” said the Janitor.  He got up and stretched his arms before dipping his mop in the bucket.  Ron got up as well and started to walk down the hall.  He turned suddenly and said,

“Hey Janitor… thanks for everything.”

“Get to class.” came the Janitor’s unemotional response.  The sound of splattering water resounded through the hall as Ron took the Janitor’s advice.

_ _ _


Ron’s “class” was more like private instruction.  With only seven students left in the class (all of them had passed from the last class), Prof. Wethers decided the best course of action was to schedule them separately.  Wethers (as stated in the previous story) felt that his two classes of Battle and Target Analysis were the most important in a Communications Technicians training.  Being as such, they were his only classes, and he could afford to give special attention to a small class.

Ron entered the room slowly, and shut the door behind him slowly.  Regardless of his precaution, the door still clicked, and in the massive classroom the closing click echoed.

“Ah.  Ron, yes, please make yourself comfortable in the first row there… next to the, ah, laptop there.” came Wethers’ voice.  Ron couldn’t see the man, but he followed the directions.  Soon enough he saw his professor appear from behind the green chalkboard- a large black book in his hands.  Ron stared at his actions, and was surprised to see that an instructor actually still used the dusty chalkboard.

“Ron?” said Wethers.  He had caught Ron’s gaze and was ready to move on.  Ron snapped out of his momentary relapse and listened as Wethers explained his test.

“Now.” he started.  “As I had explained over the course of the last few days, there are five methods to determine your target for execution…”

“Sore-thumb, Affirmative Action, Tip, Hour-glass, and Trial and Error.” said Ron immediately.

“And what do they mean?” asked an already pleased Wethers.

“The Sore-thumb method is the easiest to find.  Basically it’s the theory that suspicious actions are the best way to determine the correct target.  Suspicious actions could be anything from clothing worn by target, to equipment carried by target, to even the language spoken by the target.” answered Ron.

“And the dangers of using this method?”

“Using the Sore-thumb method can be dangerous if the suspicious target is not the actual target.  In extreme cases: if the suspicious target is eliminated and it is found out that said eliminated person was innocent, then the mission is jeopardized; and the only method left is Trial and Error.”

“Next.” said Wethers.

“Affirmative Action is when a person performs a suspicious and often violent action in front of the trooper.  This is not likely to happen, but if the trooper should be lucky enough to witness the action committed then his work is pretty much cut out for him.  The benefit of using Affirmative Action is the high chance that the subject is the correct target.  Drawbacks include putting yourself in danger to view the action and accusing an innocent person as the target.”

“Good.” exclaimed Wethers.

“The Tip method is when a trooper receives reliable information regarding details that can lead to the extermination of the target.  This is the most frequent of all the methods used.  Tips don’t have to come from other people, they can be clues that the trooper finds that leads him to the enemy target.  Drawbacks are false leads and poor information, which can lead to unnecessary death.

“The Hour-glass method,” continued Ron. “is the theory that if a trooper waits long enough, the proof and target will present itself over time.  This is usually used when a trooper has used, or tried to use all the aforementioned methods to find said person.  The drawbacks to using this method are losing the trail, missing the target, and wasting time.”

“And last…” started Wethers.

“is the Trial and Error method.” continued Ron.  “This method is the worst method; but in some cases it is the only one left to use.  The Trial and Error method is the theory that after eliminating all suspicious targets, the objective target will be eliminated eventually.  While this is the most thorough of all the methods, it is also the dirtiest and least professional.  Consequences fall heaviest with this one.  The drawback to Trial and Error is killing innocent people and in some cases missing the target completely while wasting shot and manpower on wrong targets.”

“Excellent.” said Wethers.  “You have definitely passed the oral exam with flying colors.  I doubt that you will have trouble remembering those methods in the future.  Now we will move on to the actual execution of the exam.”

Wethers drew three figures on the chalkboard and labeled them,

“The first is a human male, five foot eleven inches tall, one hundred and seventy pounds.  The only other information you have on him is the fact that he is a citizen of Corellia and he carries a heavy pistol on his right side.

The second is a female Twi’lek, six foot tall, one hundred forty-nine pounds.  You can see from looking at her that she wears a ceremonial necklace around her neck, carries twin blaster pistols at both sides of her hips- and has a blaster rifle strapped across her back.  She is a hired guard for one of the larger Vertis Corporation company buildings. 

The last suspect is a heavily armored mercenary.  You don’t know the sex of this suspect, but you can see that it is six feet four inches tall, and about two hundred pounds.  The mercenary wears thick armor with numerous weapon devices built into it.  The mercenary favors a heavy repeating blaster rifle as his weapon of choice.”

Ron nodded as the information was presented to him.

“I will now explain to you the location and then will explain your “mission” to you.  After that, you will proceed to explain to me how you will narrow down your suspect and eventually you will chose one of them to exterminate.  Is everything clear?” asked Wethers,

Ron nodded again.

“Right then.  Upon the Imperial transport Legacy twenty passengers are being shipped to Tatooine for personal and business matters.  While traveling in hyperspace, the captain is murdered in his room.  The three suspects above were caught nearby when the pilot of the ship arrived on the scene.  You, being  the highest ranking officer left on board are called to investigate.  The clues are as follows:

First: all three of the suspects have weapons with them.  The human has a blaster pistol, the twi’lek has two blaster pistols, and the mercenary has a heavy repeating blaster rifle.

Second: there are no visible blaster wounds visible on the dead captain’s body.  But there is some signs of redness around his neck as well as several bruises on his skull.  Blood is also visible around the mouth, nose, and ears of the captain.

Third: the blood of the captain has been found on two of the suspects, the human and the mercenary.

Fourth: the video camera in the room was shot and destroyed before the murder could be recorded.  When the damage was inspected, it was determined that it the person who destroyed the camera used a blaster pistol.

Fifth: the room of the murder scene has large traces of carbon monoxide gas.

Sixth: the mercenary has an empty canister of carbon monoxide gas equipped on his wrist.

Seventh: only the twi’lek and the human suffered from carbon monoxide poisoning, the twi‘lek suffering the most. 

Eighth: all three suspects blame a different suspect for the murder.”

Wethers looked at Ron.  “Are you with me so far?”

Ron nodded.  It was a lot of information, but all of it was vital to determining who the target is.

“Alright.” continued Wethers.  “Now to personal accounts.  The human claims that the twi’lek committed the crime.  According to him, he heard a gunshot in the captain’s room which made him enter the room incase someone was hurt.  When he entered, he saw the twi’lek in the room strangling the captain, so he rushed at her to stop her.  Then the human said that the twi’lek turned out the light, and then tried to escape.  The human claimed he grabbed the twi’lek by her neck and held down tight until he felt her get weaker. After that, he called for help and the mercenary came in; resulting ultimately with the lights turned on, the captain on the floor dead- and the pilot walking in.  The man gives no account for the carbon monoxide.”

Ron nodded for him to go on.

“The twi’lek claims that the mercenary killed the captain.  She said that she was the one who walked in to find the human try to kill the captain, and so she tried to stop him.  She said that she raised her blaster to kill him, but she missed and hit the camera instead. She also said that he turned out turned out the lights.  Suddenly she felt cold metallic fingers around her neck and the sound of a quiet gas leaking.  The twi’lek claims she was almost choked to death and then thrown aside by the mercenary.  She finishes the story by saying that the mercenary used the carbon monoxide to poison all the people in the room, except himself because he was protected by a mask, and then he made sure that captain was dead by strangling him.”

Ron wrote down the last part of the narrative before nodding for Wethers to finish,

“The mercenary claims that the human killed the captain.  He says that he came in late, when the lights were already out.  He admits that his canister was emptied, but he says that the human emptied it on purpose to poison everyone in the room.  The mercenary finishes his story by saying that the human strangled the captain after releasing the carbon monoxide into the air.”

Wethers smiled after finishing.  “Now tell me.” he said.  “Which one of the suspects killed him? And who should deserve death in return?”

_ _ _


Ron looked at his information carefully.  From everything he heard, the mercenary’s story sounded the least likely.  The fact that a mere citizen killed an Imperial Captain in his sleep before a guard and a mercenary did was very unlikely, and the part of the mercenary’s story about the human releasing the carbon monoxide into the room was very unlikely as well.  Doubtless the human did not even know about the carbon monoxide at all.  So from the start, it looked like the Mercenary was the perpetrator just because of his suspicious story; Sore-thumb method.

But then there was the twi’lek.  She was seen by the citizen as shooting the camera, a fact that she did not even deny.  The story about her missing the human was a very big lie too, that was a terrible shot for a hired body guard.  That alone gave her away as committing a suspicious action; Affirmative Action method.

Next Ron had to figure out exactly how the captain died, and perhaps narrow it down to who could have possibly killed him.  He thought back to the clues that Wethers gave him, or his Tips.  Wethers said that the man died with no blaster shots, but instead had pressure around his neck and bruises on his head.  That sounds like he was strangled.  Then again, there was blood around his mouth, nose, and ears.  That means that some pressure within him must have forced him to bleed externally.  Ron was no medic, but he had heard some terrible effects of carbon monoxide poisoning.  Ron thought that once again, the clues led to the mercenary; Tip method. 

The Mercenary did it...

As Ron was about to answer, he suddenly remembered a very important fact.  The twi’lek clearly claimed that she was strangled by cold metallic hands.  That contradicted against the man’s claim that he’s the one who tried to choke her.  If that was true, then the part of the man’s story where he claims he strangled the twi’lek was not true… which meant that he actually was holding onto the captain’s neck.

The twi'lek must have done it...

Ron was about to answer again; he opened his mouth and breathed, but then he remembered one last point.  The twi’lek was the one who shot the camera.  If it was clear that the twi’lek did not hit the camera on accident, then why would she want to destroy the only trustable evidence of the murder in the room?  She was covering up for herself.  That could only mean one thing: the twi’lek meant to kill the captain, but she was stopped by the man who tried to kill her, but accidentally killed the captain instead.  The mercenary, while he seemed to be the most obvious choice, was hardly involved at all.  The only problem left was how the carbon monoxide was released… 

After thinking about it for a while, the answer came to him.  The man who strangled the captain must have hit the release for the carbon monoxide on the mercenary, either by accident or on purpose- it did not matter.  That would explain how the captain’s blood got on the mercenary. All this using the Hour-glass method.

Finally Ron gave his answer.  He explained everything to Wethers first and finished saying,

“The human killed the captain, but the Twi’lek was the one who set up the murder.  The human should be punished severely, and the Twi’lek is our target, letting her go would be dangerous to other crew members.”

“Well…” started Wethers.  “You’ve passed Target Analysis… you solved that problem perfectly.”

Ron blinked in surprise.  He was not expecting such a short answer.

“That’s it?” he said.

“Unless you want me to give you another one.” grinned Wethers.

“No.” said Ron firmly.  He took out a death-stick and grinned,

“All that carbon monoxide got me thinking about my smokes…”

OOC:

Passed. This was a particularly vague topic, but you managed to play out a Cluedo style plot that kept it interesting. With your next topic, I'd like you to replace 'Language: Basic' with something along the lines of 'Language: Source Code.'  It make more sense overall that a Communications Technician would learn about communicating with their computer as opposed to taking English style Basic classes. Some of these specs need a refit, so just roll with it for now. Any hassles, I'm once again available over PM.

.

OOC:

Ron-Goron
Communications Technician
Level 5: Qualified Communications Technician

Story 2: Diagrams, Blueprints, Wiring Maps Recognition

Up in one of the greater knotted trees located outside on the specialization campus, in the leafy green leaves absorbed in diagrams, blueprints, and wiring maps: sat Ron.  He was studying for his last test, or rather, smoking and relaxing before his test.  He had taken the Janitor's words seriously, studied for an hour or two, and then spent the next hour before his test relaxing. 

A sudden tug on his leg pulled Ron out of his dreamworld and made him grab a nearby branch for security, while also looking down.  That last movement knocked his book out of his lap and onto the ground where it was picked up by an old friend.

"Your study habits haven't changed much since I last saw you." grinned Malcus.

"Malcus?" said Ron.  "Malcus is that you?"  He hadn't seen Marcus for over a year now, mostly due to their change in dorms, but also due to the fact that for the last six months Malcus had been away on duty.

Ron slid down the tree right in front of Malcus.  Ron shook his hand and asked, "So how did you like the war?"

"Not like I thought it would be." sighed Malcus.

"Too bloody?" grinned Ron.

"Too unorganized.  One minute you're shooting the face off some guy, and the next minute your best friend's face is turned inside out.  Infantry never gets to control anything- its either kill or be killed." 

Malcus sighed.  "But that's what I get for being a Heavy Weapon's Specialist."

Ron got the idea that Malcus wasn't back just to visit.

"So, you're back to finish your training?" Ron said.

"Swiching specialities. Combat Engineer."  Marcus grinned, but it was a half-hearted grin.  He hadn't even finished his heavy weapons training before he was picked up to serve active duty.  Ron had been in active duty before, but Malcus must have really gone through a lot to make him switch specialities. 

"Enough about me." Malcus nudged.  "What about you?  What's this you're studying?"  He flipped open the text to the bookmarked page.

"Diagrams and blueprints and maps." replied Ron.  "It's my last test before the exams..."

"Almost done eh?" grinned Malcus.  His smile meant well, but it faded as he remembered his own future career.  Malcus shook off that thought and turned back to the former subject.

"So tell me about these maps..."

An hour later Ron sat midsection in a smaller classroom.  Around him were the familiar faces of the remaining few who stuck around to finish their classes.  Eight of them in all; no, seven now that he counted them.  One of them wasn't here.  Ron took one more glance about the room before the instructor walked in.  Ron looked up casually, and then he double took as he noticed his professor more keenly. 

This was the first time Ron had ever had a female instructor, for the instructor was beyond any doubt a woman.  She was not garbed in the army uniform, but instead she was dressed in a professional garment that most non-millitary professors wore.  Even so, she held her shoulders back and her chin up, and there was a slight rasp in her voice which suggested that she was used to raising her voice.  Even with this vocal impairment, she was very attractive with long brown hair and very large and dark brown eyes;  all that along with a naturally attractive build... Ron wasn't about to dread this test just yet.

She almost threw her briefcase on the table before smiling towards the class.

"I am Miss Sensaii, I will be your proctor for the test."

No wonder.  She was only the proctor of the test.  Even though they had many different instructors who helped to prepare them for the course test, most of them were older and unable to fight.  A younger person like this was most likely an intern of some kind, getting used to small duties of administration before being moved up.  Ron looked around at the other students.  Since most of them were male, it was easy to see that they agreed with Ron's judgements about her looks- but what amused Ron was they were internally celebrating that single word, Miss.

"Your test will be done in two parts." Sensaii began.

Back to reality.  Ron focused on the test ahead as Sensaii pulled out two large folders, which were probably filled with the maps diagrams needed to test them on.

"The first part contains the basic map testing procedure, where I discern whether or not you have the prerequired abilities to read and use the diagrams.  This will be done through a series of questions which I will ask to each students."

The students nodded.  Ron started to wonder whether or not the test would be as easy as the last one...

"And the second part will comprise of a one on one blueprints and diagrams exercise in which I will give you a map to read and I will ask you what is wrong with each map."

That's more like it.  Nothing like a challenge to get the real promising students to step up.

Sensaii pulled up a chair and indicated for the students to sit down.  Reading aloud to them, she marked down their preformance based on preparation, confidence, and accuracy.  These results were emailed directly to each student after they answered each question so that they could keep track of their progress.  This way, it was possible for some students to build upon their failures on the next question asked them.

Ron was next.  Sensaii flipped her textbook manual and flipped the page, finally settling on a suitable question which she read aloud: "If reading a political blueprint of a gas chamber, in which hydratic, electrical, and gaseous plumbing are labled, should you use the hydratic or electrical labels as a reference to determining the approximate age of the gas ducts?"

Determining the age of gas ducts were not an easy business.  Ron remembered that the text described gas chambers as very complicated and twisted areas in which water, electricity, and gas all flowed together.  The electicity was used to heat the water which was used to keep the gas from cooling and collecting as droplets on the sides of the ducts. 

But to find the age of the ducts.  Electrical?  Electrical could be used and recycled, any information about their age would be irrelevant.  But the water pipes were attached to the gas ducts, so they would have to be installed at the same time; as well as replaced at the same time.

"Hydratic, er... the water pipes." Ron replied.  He was correct.

Upon recieving his progress sheet, he wasn't surprised.  He scored in the 95 percentile for preparation, 90 for confidence, and 100 for accuracy.  With an "either or" question, it was either pass with full points, or no points.

Once the first part of the test was done, Sensaii was prepared to challenge her students.  With the preliminary testing out of the way, she began the second phase of the test. 

Most of the students were passing this part easily.  They were intelligent students, and while sometimes they missed one or two fo the maps, those few mistakes were flooded by scores of correct answers. 

Ron was about to go, until they lost power in their room.  The only light came from the small windows near the back of the room, the front was completely dark.  Sensaii left her position in the front of the room and walked towards the back terminal to attempt to restore the lights.  Only problem was that she was having trouble.

Ron got out of his chair to get a drink of water out of the fountain in the back.  Of course, he couldn't help but ask what was wrong.

"I'm not sure." Sensaii replied.  "All I know is it's not a fuse, it's not a bad switch, and we're the only class without power."

That was clear- the main computer (which was not connected to the classroom) was still running. 

Ron was deep in thought.  He remembered seeing the lights flicker dimly during the test, but took it as being nothing.  It could be bad bulbs- but all of them burning out at once?  Not likely.

Then he looked at his classmates.  Most of them were just sitting and doing nothing, having no power on their laptops... most of them.  Ron noticed that one of them had power- one particular student whom Ron had butt heads with earlier in his classes, Symon.

Ron turned back to Sensaii and said, "Would you mind if I had a go at it?  I have an idea as to what the problem is."

Sensaii moved aside, and Ron opened up a diagnostics page showing the power distributions throughout the campus.  In the top of the screen he saw the black box that resembled the room in which they were in (the powerless room) and so he uploaded those schematics.  Once they were loaded, he searched for the power distribution.

The results were staggering.  The source of the power had been redistributed to a single tiny source.  About the size of a laptop computer.  Ron opened up the visual and identified the mainline wires that had been rerouted to serve a single power source.

"There's your problem." Ron whispered.

"Where?" Sensaii replied.

Ron pointed to the blue square on the map of the room, which was connected to a weaving blue tail that led around the room and finally out the wall.

"That blue box is using up more energy than everything else in the room combined." Ron said.  "And that blue tail connected to it is the path that the electricity makes to supply the power.  You can see that all the other wires have been ignored so that the energy can easily travel to the source."

Sensaii was clearly impressed.  How apt that he should solve the problem by using the very lessons he was just tested on.

"And I'd say that that single power unit would be about the size of a student's laptop." Sensaii said.  She raised her head and narrowed her eyes as she saw Symon typing away on his laptop.

Needless to say, Symon failed the test that day (even though he technically passed) and Ron passed (even though he technically never finished).  Sensaii had been so impressed by his work that she passed Ron on the spot, without even giving him the second part.  She said that Ron solved a harder question anyways.  Ron disagreed.  Figuring out that Symon was siphoning the power to the room for his own personal uses didn't seem like accomplishing much.

So it was with a light heart that Ron left the classroom.  He was finished with classes, and now all that was before him was exams.  The very last thing that kept him from being fully certified as a Communications Technician.

OOC:

Ehh...a bit of messiah complex, mixed with a dash of Deus Ex Machina seem to...cheapen the story a bit. But it passes. Still well-ly written, with very few technical errors. There were quite a few names that popped up with no warning as if we were expected to know them (Malcus, Symon) buuuut, those can slide. You incorperated the topic fairly well into your odd little ending there, though, so Brownie Points for that. Still, I'd try to stay away from the whole "I'm-the-only-one-that-can-save-the-classroom/take-down-my-arch-rival-at-the-same-time" type things. Otherwise, pretty good.

I believe your exams are up next, so I'll send you my choice for that right soon, and you can get all nice and started. Or...ended. Whatever.

I'm a little bit confused as to the ending. The writing is sound and the story is easy to read, good job there. The last paragraph however seems to lose the plot a little bit. Is it that the problems with the bike were pre-meditated and were in fact the exam, or was that just a coincidence?

Once I have an expansion on that idea, I see nothing more I can fault you on, good job.

Then I no longer have a reason to fail you, good job.

Pass. Catch me and Arn on IRC to confirm your next test.

Nicely written, it started off a little shakily but ended in style.

Congratulations, pass.

I'm quite disappointed I wasn't able to work out the fourth message, the first three I was quite proud of myself for. The fact I decided to involve myself into your story like that is good, and is the reason I'll be passing this test. I believe however, as this is your last story confirmation from Arnaut will also be required.

There was one spelling mistake and one wrong word right near the start, but apart from that it looked perfect to me. On my half, it's a pass.